Patsy - Part 3 free porn video

Patsy - Part 3 Chapter 10 I awoke to a day that would end my year-long odyssey into a life experience I had never bargained for, nor had ever wanted. I would soon walk through those dull grey doors into the sunlight of freedom. But to what kind of freedom? Freedom to get as far from this festering pool of inhumanity as I could get, and yet another side of me feared that freedom and wanted only to remain within these four secure walls. But I knew that was a fallacy, there was nothing but false security here and any perceived protection came at the continued loss of my own identity. No, I had to escape and face the world, though I had no real understanding of how to do that. I packed up my last remaining items from the vanity table into a backpack, zipped it up and at that moment a knock came on the steel door. In walked several of the guards, some of whom had had their last hurrahs with me only the night before. Now, with the warden by their side, they showed strict, at attention type training, giving no hint to their dark, perverted personalities that lurked just under the surface. They collected my suitcases that were now packed full with all the clothing that had been presented to me when I was brought to this cell, except that which I now wore. For this special day, I had woken and chosen to wear a conservative outfit, a simple blouse and grey skirt. I chose to go with the very subtle make up that was the standard during my year-long ordeal within these walls. Included with this ensemble, were the small ruby earrings, a couple of thin gold bracelets for my wrist and a pair of flats. I tied back my hair into a ponytail and as I took one last look at my image in the mirror, my gaze fell upon the light brown silk scarf hanging over the back of the vanity. My hand reached out automatically, while something inside stopped it from touching that talisman that had brought so much upon me. A momentary struggle deep within me fought over feelings rather than ideas, feelings of enslavement, of betrayal, loss identity, shame, and feelings of security, protection. It was only momentary and then my hand grasped the scarf and almost indifferently, tied it around my neck. I was now complete and could proceed outward. As we paraded down the hallway, the warden put his arm around my shoulders, and went on about how I'd been an ideal inmate and that he was sure that I had absolutely nothing to fear returning to society. That I'd return to my career and all this would quickly be forgotten. He wished me all good luck and then left me at the security gate that marked the threshold from this world into the next. At least, to me, I was leaving one life and was about to step into the next. On the other side of the gate stood that new life, or maybe it was really only the continuation of the one on this side of the gate. For there was Victor, standing beside a vehicle, in fact, my vehicle! His arms were folded but he had a great big grin on his face. The guard zipped his security badge through the sensor and the security gate opened. They ushered me through, set my suitcases outside the gate and as the gate receded to the locked position they drifted away and I was standing alone facing Victor. I just stood there, not sure what I should do and in that moment of hesitation, Victor strides forward, with his big arms outstretched. I brace myself, for I know it will be a warm embrace, but an embrace that will come with expectations of my place in his power. The arms surround me, clasp behind me and one brief moment of freedom is once more lost to Victor's imprisonment of my life. I begin to cry, not of happiness or security, but for my own loss of myself. Victors' hand is stroking my hair and he's shushing me, comforting me that I was now free of prison and I had everything to look forward to now. I knew better, but there was little I could do for now than to allow myself to fall once again under his "protection". He released his hold on me and gathered up my suitcases, which he placed in the trunk, opened the passenger door of my car and motioned for me to get in. Then he got in and we were soon on the road heading back towards the town from which this all started. Victor said we had to stop by the County Courthouse to collect personal items, which had been taken from me at the time of my incarceration. There would also be some papers to sign and then I'd be done with the legal system here. We arrive at the courthouse and I'm being guided down a hallway to one of the first floor conference rooms. We step inside and sitting before me at the conference table is the lawyer that handled my case. I looked up at Victor, and he tells me that as soon as all the legal paperwork is out of the way, the case will be closed and sealed. And that until then, his lawyer is still responsible for handling all the closing procedures and documents. I didn't think there was much need for a lawyer at this stage of a court case, but never having been involved before in the legal system, I just accepted what I was told. The first paper the lawyer slid my way was the document to release my belongings, then the document agreeing to the terms and fulfillment of my time to the state for my crime. Then several other documents regarding various aspects of restitution, which there was none, as nothing had been taken in the robbery, compensation for my time served regarding Social Security benefits, and a few others that after a few minutes blurred past me without my being able to fully read them. But all the documents seemed to be from the State and I didn't think to be more on guard. You would have thought that after a year with Victor, I would have learned something, but no, what with the release and things happening so quickly, I let it slip by. One of the documents had been a kind of questionnaire from the prison, asking all kinds of questions about had I been treated fairly, the quality of service, etc. there were some other questions that seemed odd but I guess they wanted a full account, such as did I have a nickname given me in prison and so I naturally wrote "Patsy", since almost from the first day I had entered there, that was what I was called. The only time I was referred to as Patrick was in my meetings with the warden. Because of the events in prison, I never had my opportunity to go before a parole board. I was always denied this due to some infraction or another just before the scheduled date, so I had completed my entire one-year sentence. Hence, I never saw another official outside of the prison where my proper name would have been used. Finally, all the paperwork was out of the way and Victor put his arm around me and hugged me, giving me a "thumbs up". He thanked the lawyer and said just send him the final bill and he would take care of it. I just looked up at Victor with a questioning look and he explained that he had taken care of my court expenses, and that he knew I would need time to re-establish myself financially and that I could pay him back then. He continued by saying "Besides, during your incarceration, my lawyer took the liberty to access your financial accounts and make sure that all bills were paid and that your apartment in Chicago did not fall into arrears. I think you should be very grateful for this assistance from him." This sort of stunned me, what right did some hicktown lawyer have in accessing my financial and personal accounts! Yes, I hadn't really thought about that while in prison and yes, most likely I could have lost quite a bit and would have found little to salvage. This just stunned me more, because until this moment, I hadn't even considered checking on all my affairs in Chicago over the past year. That feeling of being confused or manipulated came back over me and I wondered why that had happened. At that point I couldn't find the fault in the lawyers' actions and a sudden feeling of relief came over me. A feeling that maybe my life wasn't totally ruined and maybe there was some redemption yet crept in. Then I came back to reality and noticed the finely painted fingernails and the thin gold bracelets about my wrist that showed me the folly in that thought. I may still have some financial means, but I wasn't going back to any life I used to have. So in the space of just a minutes' time, I had run the gamut of feelings from sudden disgust and violation, to exaltation and relief, to a crashing feeling of resignation and loss. This took a great physical toll on my energy and I slumped back in my chair, back into the large, ebony arm, that had encircled me. Victor didn't say another word nor did he make any immediate move. The lawyer gathered up the papers and neatly tucked them into his briefcase and departed. After what seemed like an eternity for me, Victor said come on let's get going, you're probably famished and want a chance to freshen up. Tiffany is going to be so happy to see you and she's already got your room ready. The words came through but I wasn't really feeling receptive at the moment. I was still trying to digest all that had just occurred. We were once again in the car and heading out along one of the coastal roadways. A few miles out of town, Victor swung the car into a rather sophisticated looking community of townhouses. We pulled up to one that sat along the beachfront and with the press of an opener on the visor, the garage door opened and we slid inside. A side door into the garage flew open and before I had a chance to stand upright Tiffany had her arms around me and yanked me up to fully embrace me. She was planting kisses all over my face and if I didn't know better, she seemed to be getting a hard on! "Is that a rocket in your pocket or are you just happy to see me!" popped into my mind but I just let that thought slip quietly away. I needed to keep steady and not let all the contradictions in feelings and thoughts overwhelm me. I was ushered into the living room and Tiff settled me into a nice armchair with a side table, filled with tidbits of cheese, meats, and crackers. A bottle of white wine was also there having been uncorked and breathing, waiting to be poured. I took a moment to settle back and take in the surroundings. The view was magnificent and the furnishings weren't cheap box store items either. This was a tasteful home and even Tiffany was dressed in a very nice summer piece that looked like it could have graced the cover of Vogue or some other classy upscale magazine. In fact, seeing her standing there not far from me, she was even more attractive than I remembered from the night I had met her. The simpler but slightly more trampish image she gave at the bar was now replaced with a very mature, well off but hot look. The summer dress was a creamy yellow with little rivulets of white throughout in a vertical direction, which only enhanced her slim build and toffee colored skin. She had two inch white heals and her hair was nicely pulled to the side flowing down to fluff out just above the shoulders. She could easily walk a runway and make a living as a model. All of this only increased my curiosity as to how could all this be? Victor was obviously a criminal and Tiffany was, sorry to say this in my mind, a trailer park tramp. But, all that surrounded me now could not justify those thoughts. I could just as easily be at the home of one of my clients back in Chicago where I would occasionally be invited for cocktails and discussions of advertising accounts. As I'm mulling this over in my mind, Victor returns from having gone to relieve himself and after embracing Tiff and giving her a sweet little kiss, he turns to me and tells me not to be shy, pour myself a little wine and let's relax. He says he knows I'm concerned about my future and where I go from here, but not to worry, he's already got things set up for me. That little bit of news does not give me any reason to feel relaxed or comforted. Everything I know of Victor means there is always payback in one form or another for his generosity. However, at the moment, I have no other ideas or plans, I just have to accept his hospitality until I can begin to get a grip on whatever life I am to have. I pour a glass of the wine and arrange a couple bits of cheese on a cracker and sit back. Tiff and Victor take up chairs so that we are all facing each other in a little circle. Victor begins to explain some ideas he has for how I should proceed from here. Having been so conditioned by him in prison, I can only accept what he lays out as nothing less than a command. I have no choices here, I can only accept or....? Evidently, there is a basement in this townhouse and there are several rooms. Everyday I will be expected to get up and after fixing breakfast, with the help of Tiffany, I will report downstairs and enter through the door marked "office". I will be required to be at a desk that will have my name on it no later than eight sharp in the morning. If I'm so much as a minute late, there will be consequences, which I probably would rather not learn about. Tiffany will be my guide and my tutor while I am learning the ropes. Victor sees my eyebrows squinch a little in thought and he answers the unspoken question. I need not concern myself now, with what I am to learn, that will come with the lessons. Obviously, I cannot return to my old job but using my experiences in advertising, I need to focus that experience into a new profession. I'm not sure what he means by that, but clearly, I won't be privy till I'm actually in the training. So, he goes on and says for the rest of today, just relax and enjoy yourself, Tiffany will show you around and take you to your bedroom where I can unpack. With that, Victor gets up and heads out the door, where I soon hear the car pull out and he's gone. Chapter 11 Tiff is just bubbling over with excitement, I swear it's as if she has just hit the lottery or something. All the chattering and pulling me to the various areas of the house and then to my room, where she swings the door open as if I have just won the prize behind door number three. She presents me with a very tastefully appointed room, with canopy bed, the obvious pink hues to the bedspread and general feminisms associated with a woman's living quarters. The vanity for cosmetics with ornate mirror, the sitting room chairs, all of the furniture is of the white and gold style of Louis the fifteenth or one of them Louis', very French and very New Orleans. While the rest of the townhouse had looked so up to date and modern in style and culture, this room seemed a little out of place and, in my mind I thought, a little too much like a life sized room from a doll house. A shudder ran down my spine, one of those old feelings that would come on me time and again, since I had left Chicago so long ago. Tiff is running about the room, telling me all about her shopping sprees and that Victor had allowed her an allowance that she could dip into and spend as long as she purchased within the style he thought appropriate. Tiff just loved his choice of the style and being in Louisiana, it was easy to come by. She then went to the multi-door closet and slid the louvered panels aside to reveal a closet full of clothing. Not just any clothing, not just any woman's clothing, but a specific style of clothing that represented a time some hundred years before when the opulence of southern culture had women dressed in pantaloons, corsets of whale bone, any number of slips or petticoats and completed with a flowing, ruffled dress. Tiff looked at me, a look almost of a devious nature and a sly smile coursed across her lower face. I looked back with a dumbfounded, or was it more like a look of "deer in the headlights" type look. Where was she going with this?! Was I just a life-sized doll to her? Was I the "Barbie" she never had growing up? For once, my body seemed to know what it wanted to do, taking a step backwards in the direction of the doorway. Tiff's fingertip came up to under her lower lip, lips that had taken the shape of a cute little pout and she, in a little faux dejected voice, said I really should consider what might happen if I were to not indulge myself in the charity offered by Victor. Trapped! No way out and caught in this bizarre web. I couldn't run, and if I tried, I knew I couldn't get very far at all. Plus, if I didn't play along, the tingling in my spine told me things could only get very, very ugly. Was playing dress up really all that bad, compared to the alternative? My motion backwards stopped, a moment to reflect, and then I was moving forward towards Tiff with a half-hearted smile. She was immediately delighted and told me that from now on, when I had finished my work day, we would retire to my room here and change into one of the dresses in the closet and would spend each evening drinking mint juleps. Isn't that just the most coolest thing to do? I think to myself, are you asking me or telling me? Because it's the most absurd thing I could possibly think of. But of course, I did not voice this to her. I just smiled and said "oh yeah, isn't it though?" God, I can't believe I said that. Anyway, playtime seemed to have already started and Tiff has me remove my clothing and she begins to pull out all the implements of torture for my historical look and feel. The old whalebone corsets are nightmares, jabbing into the ribcage unlike anything Victor has put me in before. I'm cinched up and the curvature of the front forces my breast up and out, almost giving them a rather grotesque look. Next comes all the petticoats and I begin to wonder how I'm ever to use the toilet when nature calls. I guess if I have to pee, I'll just pull down the pantaloons and sit on the edge of the tub with all the petticoats pulled up out of the way and pee there. I just can't figure how to maneuver onto a toilet seat. Heck, the south at this period in time for this dress, didn't have toilets, they had out-houses, or you just went out and squatted in the yard discreetly digging yourself a hole with a trowel. A glance out the window dispelled any idea of doing that, I'd be seen by at least half a dozen neighbors. Next are the Victorian boots, which are impossible to get into, but somehow Tiffany manages to force them on. She starts the lacing process and tells me there's something called a boot hook that I will probably need in order to do this myself. Yes, of course, what was I thinking? I wasn't going along for the ride here, rather, I would be expected to do this to myself every day. Sheesh, at least the women in "Gone With The Wind" had slaves to help them. Oops, hope Victor can't read minds, that one would probably earn me some unwelcome time with him. Next, Tiff has me sit at the vanity, which was a bit of a struggle, both in trying to walk in this fluffed out get up and my stilted footwear. Soon, my face is transformed into that of a delicate, reserved, southern aristocrat. Oh joy, or so I want to say sarcastically, but I also can't help but observe the creature in the mirror and there is an alluring quality present in the century old styling. Well, I guess I better find some enjoyment in this, as I have a standing invitation to play the part every night till further notice. So, after a couple of false starts, I gain my balance, and Tiff begins to parade me around the house and, much to my chagrin, suggests we take a stroll in the courtyard. Well, there's nothing to fear as far as anyone mistaking me as anything more than a woman. Rather, it's just the idea of going out in public like I just walked off stage from some period play. Why that should even bother me, I couldn't really say, I guess I was just trying to find an excuse to avoid my own perceived embarrassment dressed as I was. But the funny thing was, as Tiff finally got me out in the cool ocean breeze and we were strolling under the honeysuckle draped walkways, I began to enjoy the sensations. The smells were delightful, honeysuckle mixed with a little salt air, the swish of the petticoats along the brick walkway, the little parasol Tiff had given me to complete the image, which I twirled over my shoulder. I began to imagine this character in my mind, I was trying to create the personality of the very woman that would have worn this outfit and what she would have felt at that time. Maybe this trick playing out in my mind was the result of just twenty- four hours ago being in a world where I was totally locked up for over a year. Where I was a captive to the whims of everyone else, I should say, the whim of every man. I felt free now, at least, freer and that I was relishing in this new found freedom, while deep inside me, things that had been pent up, that had festered beyond my understanding, were coming to the surface. I hated men! It was coming up inside me, I hated men! How I was treated by them in prison, how I couldn't trust them, how they only were in it for themselves and the abuse I had to endure. I was a man, I hated myself for being a man, I wanted only to be this woman. But I already knew I wasn't a man, and for all intents and purposes I was this woman. My face flushed and Tiff picked up on it. Of course, she had no idea why I had a sudden moment of embarrassment, only it had nothing to do with that, it was the result of much deep seated anger that seethed forth. She somehow sensed it would be better to just let me have a moment to myself. I turned to face the sun as it was descending towards the western horizon, soon it would be setting and it's steadily increasing red glow would mask my own crimson face. Standing there, twirling the parasol, allowing the rage that had risen inside me to dissipate slowly, gaining back control of my emotions. Once more I was breathing, not realizing that I had been holding my breath and I had just avoided a fainting spell. The sounds of sea birds tugged at my consciousness and I finally regained my footing in the present. I turned to Tiff, she puts her arm through mine and we walk back to the security of the four walls of the townhouse. Chapter 12 The next morning I get up, dress in what I believe is the appropriate attire to go to work in and head to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. As I get there, Tiff is already seated at the table with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. She informs me that Victor had to leave early and is already gone. So I only needed to cook something up for the two of them, something light. Victor must have come in sometime late, after I had retired to my bedroom. It had taken nearly thirty minutes to get out of the Victorian clothing and get it hung up properly. I was so exhausted I gave up on trying to get the boots off and had slept with them on. Course, I paid for that in the morning. My feet had swelled a little and caused me to wake about four in the morning with very hot feet, which hurt like hell. Sitting cross-legged on the bed got them close enough for me to finally get the laces undone and with much pulling and shoving, ultimately got the damn things off my feet. So this morning I was walking rather painfully in a pair of one-inch heels, the lowest I could locate. I was hoping I could ask for a reprieve from wearing the Victorian boots later today, but since Tiff gave no indication that she was going to comment on my obvious limp, I figured it was better to let it go for now. We had just finished the eggs when I looked at the clock and realized I had five minutes to be at the desk in that room Victor had mentioned. Tiff just sat drinking her coffee and reading the paper, not bothering to give me a heads up! Got to watch that one, so much for that sisterly act from yesterday. So I quickly rinsed the dishes and hobbled down the stairs into the basement hallway looking for a door with "office" written on it. There it was, I turned the knob walked in, fumbled for a light switch, then saw my desk and made the crossing to the chair just as I heard a small chiming clock peal out the Westminster chime. Though no one was in the room and therefore, no one to say I had or hadn't been at my desk at eight, I knew and that was all that mattered. If Victor were to ask me, I knew I wouldn't be able to tell him anything but the truth. As I settled myself down, after that very near miss, I noticed that there was little on the desktop. I also noticed the little stand up nametag and brought it to me and turned it around. I really didn't know what I was going to find, maybe the word Secretary? Assistant? Just didn't have a clue, but what was there took time to sink in. Three words were engraved upon the plastic inserted into the metal holder. Not a position, but a name, a name that I knew was mine. "PATSY DINA EASTHOLM" I rolled the name over and over in my mind. Patsy Dina Eastholm, that wasn't me, but it was me! NO!, I was Patrick Donald Eastholm, or at least that was the name I used to go by. But everyone had been calling me Patsy for over a year and I had simply become convinced that that was my name. Patrick no longer fit with who I had become, who I had been forced to be. Besides, I hated men now, I didn't want to be a "Patrick" anymore. My head cocked to the side, in a flash my whole life once more paraded in front of me, I was confused and nothing made sense. This conflict of consciousness was getting to me and I felt my throat tighten a notch. Tears again were just welling up inside the corners of my eyes. As if on cue, Tiffany sways through the door and my concentration and confusion bordering on regret was broken. I set down the nameplate and looked up as she appeared in a very different outfit than her usual preppy casual. She had on a dark suit outfit, well tailored and definitely a Fortune Five Hundred style. Though her entrance was easy going, as she proceeded across the room to my desk, there was a transformation in walk and bearing. When she had completed the twenty paces or so to face me, she was all business and her demeanor was one not to be trifled with. This was something I had not seen in her. She proceeded to lecture me on how the office ran and what part I would be expected to play in this. There would be a probationary period, where I would be evaluated and judged on my ability to understand and perform my duties. She went on about my responsibilities as a secretary and the importance of confidentiality in the course of the business I would be privy to. She would also see that I was trained in how to walk, speak and carry myself as a professional woman. There was much more, but which I need not detail here. Her orientation speech lasted some thirty minutes and at the completion of this, she asked if I understood all she had told me. I nodded and she said "good", whereupon she pulled a paper out from a folder she had and said for me to sign it. I looked at it and a quick glance of the paper basically spelled out in writing what Tiffany had just delivered by lecture. Before I know what I'm doing, I have written "Patrick" on the paper, at which point Tiffany's hand slams down on the desk, yanks the papers away from me and with severe disapproval along with a tinge of anger, she asks me my name. I'm a bit stunned at this, and then I try to answer, but I'm still hesitant. At this point, Tiffany grabs the nameplate, rotates it to face me and slams it back on the desk in front me. I read the name out loud, "Patsy Dina Eastholm". "Yes" she says, "that's your name, now sign the document!" whereupon she pulls another copy of the papers from her folder and slides it in front of me. This time, without hesitation but slowly, I write my name, Patsy's name. She lifts the top paper and again, I sign my name as it appears on the nameplate. And one last sheet under that one is signed by me. She collects the papers and puts them back into the folder, which she then takes to a filing cabinet and files them away and pushes the lock closed on the cabinet. She returns to me and tells me today I will be practicing shorthand and typing. I already had some typing skills, but never had a reason to learn shorthand. So, for the rest of the day, Tiffany patiently taught me in this and during breaks would have me walk and talk around the office space, learning the finer points of a secretaries demeanor. After this first day, I was so exhausted, all I wanted to do was go to my room and crash into bed. However, I was reminded by Tiffany that I must change into my Victorian clothing and join her in the living room. And so after the ordeal of getting into the outfit, I spend the evening sitting and making small talk with Tiffany. She has brewed some tea and I know though it is a relaxed situation, unlike the regimentation of my work day, she's still correcting minor things like how I hold the tea cup and the way I bring it to my lips. And so for the next two or three weeks, the routine changes very little from day to day. My secretarial skills improved quickly and soon I am very proficient with any tasks assigned to me. I also notice that among the recorded tapes of dictation which are obviously meant for teaching purposes only, are tapes that Victor has created and are clearly real correspondence that needs to be typed up. The letters that Victor has dictated all revolved around contracts, most of which appear to be in the porn business. Some are quite open, others seem to be written in a way that only if you know both sides of the conversation, do they make any sense. I had always wondered about the other sides of Victor, none of which he had ever shared with me in prison. Further, when I came to live at the townhouse, I couldn't see how his lifestyle was commensurate with a felon. I was now learning a little more about him. I knew porn was a hot commodity on the internet, but it was something I never had a desire or urge to look at. Clearly, Victor was heavy into this business and now I could understand how he was able to afford the lifestyle I saw around me. Also, apparently, he reinvested his earnings into other forms of more legit business ventures. There was a lot of buying and selling of commodities, but these "commodities" were never identified, at least not in a way I understood. I was impressed, to say the least at his business acuity! While all this was going on, I also received a weekly visit during business hours from the "company" doctor. He would give me a once over, checking and measuring my body. This had been disconcerting at first, being told to strip naked and then having him paw over me for ten or fifteen minutes, but once the routine of it set in, I ceased to feel unease with him. I was given several injections weekly, which I knew was part of the hormone regimen, which had started in prison. By the time I had left the confines of the prison, the hormone therapy had done most of its work. Now the program seemed to be for ongoing maintenance of what had already occurred. My breasts had filled a bit more out, and after each maintenance shot, they were tender for a day or two. The doctor also brought along an assistant who was trained in electrolysis and what few facial hairs still refused to yield to the hormones were quickly dispatched by the little zap of the electric needle. I was glad I had always been fine of hair, those treatments were a real pain in more ways than one! Chapter 13 About two months after arriving at Victors' townhouse, a day came when Tiffany mentioned that after work hours that day. I was not to put on the Victorian clothing, but only to take a shower, redo my office make- up but with a slightly brighter red for the lips, and slip into a robe and meet her in the living room. I can't tell you how relieved I was to finally have an evening free of that accursed costume. Yeah, there were times when I actually enjoyed the dress up and how it provided an odd sort of escape into womanhood. But more often, it was a real drag! So, even though I had some curiosity, with trepidation as to what might transpire that evening, I was more overwhelmed by the feeling of being given freedom from bondage. Or so I thought! I came out from my shower, dried my hair and had let it fluff out with the brush. No bands or clips, this girl was going totally free of bindings and I'd taken a little extra time to apply, as any girl should, my makeup. Tiffany was waiting and motioned for me to follow her to the basement. I thought to myself that this seemed odd, as we never returned to the office after hours. What I failed to remember, was that there was at least one other door, or room in the basement besides the office, but that door had always been locked and never mentioned. As I descended the stairway, right behind Tiffany, she stepped up to a door a little further down and on the opposite side of the hallway and inserted a key. The door swung open and she stepped aside, motioning for me to step inside. As soon as I had crossed the threshold, Tiffany slid the robe off my shoulders, pulled the door closed and I could hear the key inserted and the door was once again locked. She had not followed me in and I could hear her footsteps slowly fade up the stairway. I was now standing naked and alone in a room, it was not dark but very dim and my eyes took a moment to adjust. I could begin to make out a room that appeared to be a medieval prison cell. The walls were stone and there were iron chains and shackles hanging upon them. There was a wood platform, which I recognized as a "rack" and there were various clothing items on hangers in one corner. Not just any clothing items, mind you, many were made of black latex or leather, and a lot of spiky bracelets and collars. Needless to say, fear gripped me like I hadn't experienced since, well, since ever! The fear released the "fight or flight" response in me and I wasn't about to do any fighting, so I swung around and grabbed that door handle, yanking on it with dear life. But, of course, no amount of tugging or banging from me would yield so much as a tremor from that door. However, it didn't matter, I would tug and beat until it gave or I no longer had the strength to do so. And of course the tears started flowing, while curses came wildly from my throat, as if they might have some unforeseen power over matter. While I was thus engaged, I hadn't noticed that the lighting in the room had slowly risen till the room had become very bright. As I saw my shadow grow sharp and dark against the door, I eased up on my attacks and finally stopped in order to turn around and figure out what was happening. This time, when I scanned the room, I could see that what I had thought were real stonewalls and real chains and shackles were really only painted backdrops or murals on the walls. It had looked so real in the dim lighting, but in the now very bright lighting, they were exposed for what they were. So, I felt a bit of relief, but on the other hand, that clothing was real and so was the rack! Then I heard a click and Victors' voice came from the ceiling, though I couldn't make out where the speakers might be as the lights overhead were too bright to look through. In a plain and matter of fact voice, Victor told me to go over and put on the articles of clothing that were hanging on the wall. I approached the items and I knew by their shape where I should place them on my body, but having never worn anything like this before, I wasn't quite sure where to start. Victor didn't hesitate, as I began to reach for the nearest article, he instructed me to grab the black latex body suit and put it on. This was a very slinky, and tight fitting garment. There was what appeared to be talcum powder inside it to help it slide over my skin and so I began putting my legs through. Up I pulled the material over my shoulders and made some adjustments till it was laying, or I should say, clinging to my skin. This body suit left my feet exposed, the area around my crouch and anus, my hands and my breasts poked through two holes as well. All my important bits were left exposed. The suit was low cut on my back, coming up just above my waist. Victor then commands me to apply the spiked collar and wristbands, and make sure they are properly buckled in place. He then has me take what looks like a rubber ball with leather leads and instructs me to insert the ball into my mouth and tie the leads at the back of my head. At this point I hesitate, up till now, the other items hadn't technically been binding me, but this would. Victors' voice rises a notch and a note of anger is in his tone, when without further instruction, he simply says, "NOW!". I jump and as fast as I can manage, the leather leads are securely tied behind my head. I'm now standing there looking at the other items wondering what I should grab next when Victor orders me to walk out to the center of the room where there is a circle and stand there facing the door. I quickly proceed as he has directed and assume my position there. I hear some motor noise over my head, but I dare not look up, as all the training in prison from Victor has kicked back in and I know better than to question or in any way appear to disobey an order given by him. He then orders me to look up and grab the cable that has descended. I do as I'm told and on the cable are several clip type hooks. He instructs me to clip the rings on the bracelets into these hooks, which I do and to grasp the cable. I feel the rings snap in and just grab hold of the cable when the whirring begins again and the cable begins to rise. It does not go far, but my arms are now extended all the way over my head, I'm on the tips of my toes and I'm maintaining my grasp on the cable as it eases the binding of my bracelets on my wrists. As I'm trying to adjust to this position, the door opens and in walks Tiffany, but in the interim of those few minutes, she has changed into black latex as well, but hers is all decked out like a dominatrix. She proceeds over to me and Victor directs where and how he wants her to pose with me. He commands me to always be smiling or as the pose demands, any number of facial reflections that imply sexual ecstasy or orgasm. Tiffany is instructed to fondle my breasts, then to nibble on them, to play with my very small male organ, all kinds of poses accentuating sexuality. She's then instructed to padlock my bracelets together as the cable is lowered and to lead me over to the rack where my wrists bracelets are locked to a ring on the platform and I'm instructed to get on all fours with my butt sticking up. Again, Tiffany is instructed to create poses where she's sexually using various parts of my body. At one point she straps on a dildo and then greases up my ass and starts pounding away. Her real male equipment is like mine and no longer has the power to rise, but she still knows how to pound away with her hips and I can't help but respond to the caressing of my prostrate. I've not had any sex since arriving at the townhouse, which had made me concerned about what Victor was up to. Now I wondered if it was just to get me so horny, by having sex denied, that I would perform admirably now. And performing I was, I hadn't realized how much I had missed the sex, with my attention drawn away from it with the work day and the proper Victorian evenings. Now my body was really responding and I couldn't help but squeal and moan with each ministration Tiffany applied! God, it was so good! I could feel the building of an intense knot in my lower regions, my body was tingling and I knew I was headed for the "mother" of all orgasms. I guess it must have showed, for Victor called out for Tiff to stop and leave the room. I could only cry out, though muffled as it was by the gag, my total frustration! I pounded my secured wrists against the wood of the rack and tried to rub my legs together, just to try and elicit some kind of sexual stimulation from what little I had left in my groin. I thought I heard a low level chuckle come from the speakers, but I didn't care if Victor was laughing at me, at that moment I simply wanted release of that knot in me. As if to answer my wish, I heard someone come back in through the door behind me. Moments later, a pair of hands had grasped my hips. These weren't Tiffany's and they weren't Victor's either. I know Victor's touch even in the blackest, darkest night. But these hands were almost as strong as his. I struggled to turn and look at the personage who now had hold of me. He too was black, well, not quite, actually, if my eyes were not playing tricks on me, he seemed to resemble Tiffany in many ways. The velvet coffee skin color was almost the same and his features, like Tiff's, reminded me of Caribbean or Jamaican heritage. But the schlong that was hanging down between the legs of this masculine creature was more than I would have expected and I feared it! Oh, as I have said, I was subjected to many items by Victor while in his protection, but this item was somehow different. All I could focus on, was the length. It wasn't quite as round as Victor's so I had no fear about it going in, but the length! I didn't think it would be possible for me to possibly take it all in. I didn't know anything about anatomy, so I really couldn't say why it scared me, only that it did! Further, that dick raised up within me the anger that had been building for weeks about hating men and everything about them. In that moment of thought, I focused on Victor, but something inside me didn't register him in the same way. But this guy was different, he was a man, just a man with no connection to me and I hated him. I was thrown into another paradox that overwhelmed my conscious mind. I was worked up, so desperate for sexual release, needed a cock, any cock, plastic or otherwise, to rub my insides, to bring me release. But on the other side, I hated this man, though I had never met him or knew of him, I just hated him because he represented all men! I wanted to slap his hands away, to stay far away, and yet, I continued to look at his male organ with lust. I needed it so badly for release. Oh man was I screwed up! I felt him take away a hand from my hip and he laid his snake upon my backside, rubbing it up and down my crack for stimulation. I could feel and see it come to life. I bucked a bit, but I couldn't tell if I bucked to try and get away, or to help with his stimulation. I'd worked myself up so much by this time that I began to swoon a bit, I was here but I was also feeling lightheaded. A hand had reached around and began massaging my breast. The fire that had been ignited and fed by Tiffany came roaring back to life and I could only gasp from the feelings flooding within me. This followed closely by the knowledge that his tool had found it's mark and ever so gradually, pressure was applied. Tiffany had worked me open so well, that there was almost no resistance and his head entered with ease. Now came the moment for my fears to either be confirmed or proved wrong. He slid on, passing by my prostrate, whereupon I yielded a bit and relaxed sitting back into him, which moved him even faster into me. I hadn't meant to do that, but I found I could handle it. But on he came and the anticipation of the end hadn't materialized. Still sliding, and then I felt two things at once. Indeed, the very tip of this long marauder had finally touched down somewhere within me. It was an odd sort of feeling, no pain, just pressure. A little bit of discomfort from the pressure, but none of the feared pain I thought I would have. The other feeling was the connection of his groin area with my buttocks, he had succeeded in entering me as far as he could. These two things helped me to relax just enough to allow the sexual feelings to come back with a vengeance. I couldn't wait for him to work out a rhythm, I wanted it and I wanted it now and started my own bucking back and forth driving him into me. Soon my muffled squeals were combined with his grunts, we were really putting on a show. Once he had imbedded himself, he bent over my back and each of his hands grasped a breast. He was riding me and was holding on as if he feared falling off. How anyone with a pole like his could ever think they'd "fall off" was beyond me! We were locked together and no way was I going to change that till I had gotten from him what I wanted. Having my hands bound and my mouth gagged, wasn't helpful, but it didn't particularly hinder either. I felt one of his hands release my breast and before I knew it, the gag fell away from my mouth. It was like he had read my thought. My squeals, moans, and gasps now increased by many decibels. I began to formulate into words what I wanted from him, shouting for him to fuck me and fuck me hard. How I so wanted him to cum and feel his seed within me. I yelled I needed him, wanted him and to give it to me. The result of this pillow talk was immediate and if I had thought he was at his peak energy level before, I was so wrong. His shaft seemed to get even harder and, as if it were possible, just a smidgen longer. Didn't matter, he was riding me and humping me and that was exactly where I wanted to be at that moment. Give it to me sucker, just drive it home, yeah, come on baby, show me what my man has to offer. Oh, such strange thoughts for me, but right now, I was too worked up to care. I was living this moment out and wanted that climax that was not far away. And that moment came, it was like a dam bursting forth with tons of pressure, I saw stars I never knew existed. My body was wracked by earthquakes, the likes of which I had never experienced. Somewhere, way down inside a voice remarked that all my sexual experience in another life had been centered in one area, but this wasn't like that at all. This was all through my body. And the intensity was only greater due to the fact that it had spread out to the very tips of my fingers and toes. I was vibrating! Chapter 14 The snake that was within me once more came alive, I could feel it pulsate, to wiggle and weave about. The sensation it produced as it does so, brings subtle warmth within my physical being. I'm feeling secure, contented, some pent up frustration has been released and I'm once again free. Free of what, I don't know, can't visualize what that might be. I can only revel in these feelings. But I am also aware enough to know that the snake is sliding away, leaving it's cozy little nest and will be gone to hunt some other prey. But it has left behind a little of itself. I can feel its essence as the snake slides away. A sudden, unbidden impulse causes me to respond. I reach down and grab the snake just before it's head clears the entrance. I'm struck at that moment that my hand is free from bondage, by whom and when did it happen? I don't know, I only know that I am able to grasp what was once buried inside of me, and now wishes to leave. A small glob of this snake's seed is squeezed between my fingers into the palm of my hand, and I bring it to my lips where my tongue greedily licks it up. Why did I just do that? I couldn't make sense of it, but I needed to feel and taste that salty essence. I needed that snake cream and knew that if I had not gotten it, I would be less of a woman and this sexual act would have been for naught. I continued to lay upon the rack, my belly now flat on the wood and my ass no longer sticking up in the air. I feel the ooze of our mixed fluids seeping past my opening and slowly sliding down my inner thighs to fall in puddles upon the surface of the wood below me. I sense that my new found playmate has left the room and that I am alone, or at least, physically alone for I know Victor is lurking out there somewhere beyond these walls watching me. I appreciate though, that for the time being, no word or presence is made known by anyone. Something inside me wants to savor the few precious moments that I had just experienced without interference from anyone. It was so private and personal, I didn't even want the snake around and am very glad it has slithered away. I have no recollection of time, only that I had laid there for some time and the inevitable return to reality came all too soon. Tiffany, now back to her normal summer dress, comes into the room, which has now dimmed back down. She removes the bracelets and helps me to peel off the latex jumpsuit. She has with her a damp washcloth and proceeds to clean up my groin and ass, at least enough that I won't be dripping on my way to my shower. In this whole encounter, Tiffany doesn't say a word, she just looks on me with a very kindly smile and knows that I am in some kind of deep thought or afterglow from my sexual encounter. Which is probably true on both counts, though I'm not even able to formulate it like that, as it's more feeling driven than by thought. One cannot always put into words the feelings that are deep within ones own self. She helps to steady me as I climb up the stairs, as I'm very sore from my encounter with the "snake". Having had no sex since leaving the prison, I had lost some flexibility or something. Anyway, whatever the reason, I hadn't been this sore for a long time. I leave Tiff at the bathroom door, telling her I can handle it from here, but really just wanting her to leave and allow me to be alone with myself. The wonderful warm water sprays out upon my skin, I just lean against the glass and let the soothing rivers flow over me. I am actually feeling very good about myself. I had blinding moments in the last couple hours of deep-seated anger, hatred towards a man I did not know, and a heightened level of fear of the unknown. Yet, I also had long moments of sheer delight, a level of euphoria unlike I had ever known. On a balance scale, when all the forces I had just experienced were to be poured into each side and weighed, the needle would definitely be pointing somewhere on the positive side. My finger reached down and inserted itself, looking for a little reinforcement. Not to tickle myself, but to find that elusive snake cream. I had something coating my finger now and I brought it up to my lips. I could smell the acrid refuse of my system, but there, oh so delicate, was the scent I had hoped to find. That sweet salty aroma was lurking there. I couldn't resist, and the finger was pulled through my lips. Yes, I had to hold down my initial body reaction to vomit, but amidst that unholy taste, was what I was seeking. The cream, the seed of the snake! Was I now Eve in the garden? Had I been tempted and fell as she had? With those thoughts swirling around me, I dried and fell into a fairly deep sleep, wondering what it all meant and what further plans were being laid for me.